


The Prince of Tabarka

by Tametomo



Category: Night Manager, The Night Manager - Fandom, Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: Abduction, Adventure, Angst, Blindfolded, Bondage, F/M, Family, Father Figures, Fatherhood, Gen, Jonathan Pine - Freeform, Kidnapping, Loneliness, Loss, Melodrama, North Africa, Rescue, Secret Mission, Seduction, Sex, Spies & Secret Agents, Tearjerker, The Night Manager - Freeform, Tragedy, Tunisia, Villains, all the feels, tom hiddleston - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-28
Updated: 2017-05-20
Packaged: 2018-10-24 19:52:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 16
Words: 12,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10748667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tametomo/pseuds/Tametomo
Summary: The continuing imagined adventures of Jonathan Pine. Pine thought he was free to live the rest of his life but finds he is sorely mistaken when Angela Burr demands his help once more. Little does he know that more will be asked of him than ever before.This story is inspired by at least two Bond films, which seemed fitting. It's an adventure/spy story, but it's also about Jonathan himself, facing some painful truths about himself and finding out - too late? - what it will take to pursue the happiness that has always evaded him. I have left a few things unspoken or open to interpretation (feel free to guess at them) but I can't promise a happy ending...





	1. Tunnel Vision

**Author's Note:**

> This story follows on from the first Night Manager piece I wrote, Chapter 07 / Surfacing, so if the opening doesn't make sense, please check that out for the background story. I did some research on the places in the story, which was fun - now I want to go to Tunisia! If you've been to any of the places in it you may recognise some details, but I have also taken some artistic licence too :) 
> 
> I would really love to know what you guys think, if you feel like leaving me a comment!

It took a lot to make Jonathan Pine angry. Very few things could awaken that black, dangerous mood in him. Nearly two decades of rigid self discipline - first as a soldier, then as a discreet, professionally faceless hotelier - had taught him to suppress his most volatile emotions. Even when they spilled out into the outside world - as they had with devastating effect in the last few years - he had been able to manage them carefully and strategically, steering them like a missile. Now, though, he wanted to drive his fist through the window of the car he was in, sending glass spattering to the asphalt beneath other drivers' wheels. The car sped across London, and its furious captive bristled in the back seat, his mind racing over the tongue-lashing he would deliver when they arrived.

Why wouldn't they leave him alone? Why was his life entangled with that bastard's existence? When would "done" mean "done"?

\---

Three months earlier, an ambulance had raced across east London, carrying a precious and hated cargo. Richard Roper lay bleeding on a gurney, blood pulsing from a gunshot wound halfway between his shoulder and his heart. The surgeons had done their job, and he had lived. Neither he, nor Angela Burr, had known whether they were glad or disappointed - to die or face justice: which was worse? Pine knew how he felt about it. A dark chapter had closed when Jed had fired that shot, and he had thought the worst years of his life were finally behind him. When he found out Roper had survived the operating table, the chains were upon him again, though he knew the bastard couldn't touch him any more.

And now he was summoned. The International Enforcement Agency had come calling, and his freedom was revoked again. When would he be allowed to disappear, as he had spent years doing perfectly successfully before? A stream of rarely uttered profanities cycled furiously through his brain.

He strode through the grim halls of HMP Pentonville, the tunnel-vision of his anger shutting out the institutional grey of the walls and the rowdy noises from the cells either side of him. Bars clanged open and shut behind him as he walked ever deeper into the hellish heart of the prison. One final set of grilles... and Angela Burr stood waiting for him at the end of the corridor. For the first time since he'd known her, she actually looked ashamed. The anger rose in him again.

"I'm sorry to do this to you, Jonathan. We wouldn't have called if we didn't have to."

He glared at her. The rehearsed speech deserted him and he was left impotent with his fury.  
"So. What?"  
"He'll explain." Angela jerked a thumb toward the cell behind her. "I'm sorry again, Jonathan."


	2. Prison

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Richard Roper makes Jonathan a proposition.

Pine kept his distance, arms folded across his chest. "What could you possibly want from me that you think I'd give you?"   
Roper sat at the table, his ankles and wrists shackled. The prison uniform fit him badly. After everything, it was curiously awful to see this irrepressible man brought to such ignominy. Roper dipped his head, and would not meet Pine's eyes. After an obstinate silence, he spoke. The guttural, aristocratic drawl brought back bad memories for Pine.  
"Here's how it is, Jonathan. My boy's in trouble. Danny. You remember Danny, of course...?" Roper fixed him with a hard stare.   
"He should be tucked in bed at boarding school, dreaming up plots with his friends and planning midnight raids on the confectionery cupboard."  He paused. "Some old associates of mine have him, Pine. They snatched him last week - no security at that damned school. They're a little unhappy with my present situation. Expecting me to deliver something, you see. The boy's security. Only I'm not getting out of here any time soon. And their patience is not indefinite."

Pine thought of the boy. Little Daniel. Sweet-natured. Trusting. Self-contained. Composed for his age. The lonely princeling with the absent father. He had been very fond of Danny. 

Roper read his mind. "I know you had a soft spot for him, Pine. You didn't make that up, at least." Pine was silent.  
"These imbeciles don't give a ghost of a damn about him." Roper gestured impatiently at the door. "And even if they did, what would they do? What could they do, without causing an international incident? But you do give a damn. And you're a free agent."  
"What exactly are you asking?"  
"Get him back, Pine. Get him back. We'll call the slate clean." His voice strained.  
"You're out of your mind. I don't owe you anything." Pine turned to leave.  
Roper challenged him. "What about Dans? You owe him something. An apology at least. He's a kid. You lied to him. Used him against me. Deprived him of a father. If I were still around, he'd be safe."  
"I'm not the reason you're in here. Your actions put you here," Pine countered, fighting the guilt that rushed at him from the back of his head.  
"Actually Jed's actions put me here. If I remember correctly, you were...unheroically indisposed." Roper's laconic voice dripped with mockery. "And how is my treacherous lady love?"  
Pine ignored the question.  
"Hm." He raised his brows. "All not well in paradise?" Pine met his eyes and gave him a warning look.  
"Never trust a woman who'll stab her beloved in the back for you, Pine. It's a poor start to a relationship. Once a viper, always a viper."  
"I don't need advice from you." Pine's voice was stony. Roper shrugged, lowered his eyes for a few seconds, then leaned forward.  
"Get my boy back. Get him back and I'll give up everything I have. Contacts, buyers, other people's ops, plans on hold, regime intel, the lot. A treasure chest. Your Mrs Burr would be on her knees thanking you." Roper's voice was level but Pine could almost see the corner behind the man's back. Nowhere to go. How desperate he must be, to ask the man who destroyed his world to save the one thing he had left.   
"I need to think about it."  
"No," he snapped. "No pondering, no hanging around. There isn't time. I want him safe, Jonathan," Roper urged.  
"How dangerous are these people?" Pine asked.  
"What do you think?" Their eyes met.

\---

"Where's the boy being held?" Pine and Angela talked in low voices across a table in the next room, each cupping a hand round a paper cup of dismal coffee.  
"Tunisia," Angela said. "Roper was setting up one of his deals out there after he escaped. I don't know how he does it. He has contacts everywhere. You squash him and he pops up elsewhere. It's like playing bloody Whack-A-Mole. Anyway, he set something in motion out there before he came back here to deal with you. And since that unravelled, it left some unfinished business. His contacts aren't too happy about being left in the lurch. They scooped the boy up last week from the school playing fields. We think he's somewhere near Tabarka."  
"And what do they want?"  
"They want whatever Roper promised them."  
"And why is that our problem?"   
Angela raised her eyebrows at him. Pine raised his hands in defence.  
"Look, I'm sorry for the boy. I liked Danny. But I don't understand why your agency, let alone the River House, gives a damn."  
"Because we've _**finally**_  got him where we want him, Jonathan!" Angela banged the table with her fist. "He's played silly beggars for months. He knows everyone out there, every deal, every player. He won't give us any of it. He taunts us, grumbles about his shoulder, asks for things he knows we won't give him, or just sits there in bloody silence. Now we've **_got_** him. We get Danny back, we get it all. He doesn't talk, we'll make sure he never sees his son again."  
"Why me though? You don't need me for this. Just send in a team."  
"We don't know what the situation is out there. And if it proves complicated... we want someone the kid trusts. They might have got him to trust them. Did you think of that? He's young, he's scared. We need someone he knows."  
Pine thought for a moment.  
"I'm sorry to ask it of you, Jonathan. I know we said you were done." He shrugged off her apology, and knit his brows together. He spoke slowly.  
"Does Danny know...."  
"No. He doesn't know what you did. I've got Roper's word on that."   
Pine snorted.   
"Look, Jonathan, it's his kid. You know better than anyone what that means. He's not going to risk the boy's life just to send you into the lion's den. I think this is real."


	3. The Traveller

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jonathan journeys to Tunisia to begin his mission, and sets about trying to find his target.

Four days later, Pine was on an Air France flight to Tunis, with a head full of information and apprehension. Roper had been frantic for him to be on his way sooner but Angela would not hear of it, insisting that he be fully briefed and resourced before he went anywhere. To the best of their knowledge, Danny's captors were holed up outside a small coastal town in northern Tunisia. Roper had been reluctant to give them any more detail than he had to, clinging to the little power he had left, but his fear for his son was a powerful motivator, and he admitted the name of the man they were looking for; Marwan Amri.

A wealthy character with powerful connections throughout Tunisia and the Maghreb, Amri had been poised to spend a lot of money with Richard Roper before the latter's uncharacteristically rash actions a few months earlier had wiped the plan off the table. Amri had high-level links to Tunisia's security forces, who were engaged in a brutal crackdown on the populace after several terror attacks, and who were currently under fire from Amnesty International for a brace of human rights abuses. He had had plans in motion, a timeline in place. He and his associates had been none too pleased with the setback. Roper had told Pine to expect a well-guarded compound outside town. Cover of night and sheer luck would be his only route in, unless he could concoct some other plan once he had his bearings. Angela had said she would try to get some backup there separately, but had been unnervingly vague about the details. He suspected the IEA had not improved its resources since they last worked together.

\---

After a long and airless bus ride from the airport, Pine arrived at his hotel, weary and in need of a drink. The Hotel Itropika was a tired but clean place, with a large entrance veranda flanked by collections of white pillars. As he and his fellow travellers descended from the bus, they were greeted by a collection of local men playing various drums and tambours, while another man in a djellaba and trainers performed a welcome dance. It was noisy and cheerful and Pine appreciated the effort, but after several hours with a pounding headache on a bus without air conditioning, he was ill-equipped to give it his full attention, and he slipped apologetically past through the glass doors into the dark respite of the hotel lobby.

His room was nondescript but clean, and overlooked a noisy pool with children splashing about. He pulled several maps from his bag, charting the city and the surrounding hills, as well as a satellite map zooming in fuzzily on the compound where Roper and Burr thought Danny was being held. He had also brought French and Arabic phrasebooks - although fluent in the former, and roughly conversant in the latter, it had been years since he'd used either on a daily basis. A brief image of Sophie Alekan, that last, appalling time he'd seen her, flashed through his mind, and he wondered if he'd ever be free of the memory, or the ongoing aftermath of that dark episode of his life.

\---

Pine went to the bathroom and freshened up, changing his cargo shorts and polo shirt for a casual indigo blue suit and a pale blue shirt. He left the shirt unbuttoned at the neck and decided a tie certainly wasn't necessary. He had to acknowledge, ruefully, that if Roper had given him nothing else worth having in the last year or so, he had at least given him a masterclass - and suitable clothes - for dressing for certain environments.

He tried not to dwell on the discomfort he'd felt since seeing Angela again the previous week. Could he justify what they were doing? Rescuing a scared little boy; ridding the world of a few more arms dealers; very noble indeed. But using Danny as a bargaining chip against his own father, threatening to separate them forever... The former soldier in him thought about the threat that Roper's contacts posed to the rest of the world. Then he thought about his part in it. Saving Danny's life. Taking the boy for ice cream. Keeping him company when no-one else was around to do so. Stealing a child's phone in order to lock his father up. He had felt, first, like an uncle, and then like the second worst man in the world; both parts played to perfection. He was reminded of why he had left the army - to escape this specific, squirming feeling. Pine shook himself and splashed his face thoroughly with water. No time for pondering now, as Roper had put it. His role was written for him; time to step onto the stage.

 


	4. La Cigale

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A beautiful, unusual woman captures Pine's imagination and distracts him from his task.

Pine skipped the hotel bar, making instead for the concierge desk, and asked them to get him a cab to La Cigale, a five-star hotel along the coast where he was sure to find the great, the good, the big and the bad of Tabarka society, or so the briefings suggested. A country club style hotel arranged in a U-shape around a large circular pool, it sat upon a calm stretch of coastline, overlooked from the west by verdant hills that led to the Algerian border.

He arrived and strolled into a bright circular, domed lobby with an ornate gold chandelier in the centre. Two storeys of galleries rose up on all sides above him, with Egyptian style gold leaf-shaped decorations, lit from behind, reaching up to the apex of the lobby. The lights gleamed off a polished granite floor, and a few well dressed locals stood around in little clusters at the edges of the lobby. In well rehearsed French, he asked the concierge for the bar, and was pointed toward a lower ceiling'd bar through an archway. Pine didn't see any of the promised Tabarka elite, or even many tourists in there. Empty white leather armchairs filled the floor, and a grand piano stood in the centre of the room, on a circle of white terrazzo in the middle of the wood floor.

As he walked into the room, Pine's eyes rested on a woman sitting alone at the bar. 'Like any good spy novel,' he thought wryly. She was beautiful, in an understated way. She sat on one of several white bar stools at an otherwise empty bar. An undramatic but intriguing face under a great pile of soft, slightly messy brown hair. The hair eclipsed her but he could make out the curve of a soft cheekbone. 'French?' he thought. She was wrapped in something dark and velvet, suspended from her shoulders with thin straps. She studied, but did not drink, her negroni. Behind her, as the sun dropped below the horizon, only a wall of glass stood between the room and the darkening sea.

\---

Pine decided to join in the game, if that was what it was. Beautiful women didn't sit at bars on their own for no reason, though whether the chessboard was laid out for him or someone else, he didn't yet know. He approached the bar, and waited for the barman to acknowledge him. From the corner of his eye, he sensed the woman glancing at him. 

He ordered a single malt, and heard her emit a little, amused "Hm."  
He turned his head to her, and raised his eyebrows. She returned the look, looking boldly at him, then shrugged, smiled and returned to her drink.  
"Something funny...?" he probed.  
"I'm sorry. Forgive me," she replied. Her plea for forgiveness sounded more like a dismissal. He focused his gaze on the array of coloured glass decanters behind the bar, and let silence settle itself between them. Annoyance overtook him suddenly. He turned fully to face her, resting an elbow on the bar.   
"What is it?" he asked.  
"It's just your drink," she replied, and laughed softly, apologetically. He was right. A French accent. Her eyes were a very light green. Her face wasn't sharply defined; those softly shaped cheekbones, a slightly downturned rosebud mouth, and heavy, un-madeup brows. She looked a little like Sophie Marceau. A quiet beauty, not a bombshell.

His look - amused, a little affronted - invited her to continue. "I knew you would order whiskey," she said. "Men in suits like yours always do." She glanced at the blue wool of his tailored sleeve. The laughter subsided to a smile and a wicked twinkle.  
"It seems we're both easy to read," he responded. He tried to attune himself to the game but knew his tone was too stiff. She would think he was taking her needling seriously. In his head, he shook himself out into a more relaxed posture. She watched him compose himself, and waited for him to explain himself, her head tipped to the side slightly.  
"I guessed you'd have a French accent."   
She responded only with a little, silent "oh" gesture, nodding her chin up briefly.

"Where are you from?" he asked her.  
"Here." The corners of her mouth lifted imperceptibly.  
"But originally?"  
"France." She sighed contemptuously. "A dead little town called Paray-le-Monial. Nothing has ever happened in Paray-le-Monial. It's terribly pretty. Here, something happens every day." She spoke English excellently, with a soft French accent and a little mocking undercurrent of irony that seemed to punctuate everything she said.  
"Like what?"  
She lifted a hand and gestured noncommittally. "A bomb kills 25 people in the square. Tourists come and go. Amusing, evil characters have meetings in the lobby out there and think no-one can see them. Beautiful men come up to me in hotel bars and ask me questions." She smiled.  
"Who are these evil characters?" he asked. She was bewitching, he realised slowly. His eyes followed the upturned curve of her nose, down over her cupid's bow, across the surface of the impudent mouth and firm chin. Momentarily, Jed flashed across his mind. Resentment stung him and he put her aside.  
"They're everywhere. Like flies," the woman shrugged, and sipped from her glass. She leaned over to him, conspiratorially.  
"Where is your place?"   
He took a breath. "Hotel Itropika."  
"Well, that won't do," she replied, laughing a little. "Would you like to come upstairs with me?" He smiled. She paused, set her cocktail down, and slipped off her stool. "Come on," she beckoned lightly.  
She turned on her heel and glided towards the stairs. He noticed that she didn't affect the swaying motion that women often performed for men's benefit. She moved gracefully and simply, her shoulders dropped and her head held very straight. Pine paused for a moment, bit his lip and followed her.


	5. Chess

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pine and his new acquaintance play their first hands, but do they want the same thing from each other?

The beautiful stranger wasted no time. She slipped the shirt off Pine's shoulders, and started to deposit kisses on his collarbone, his shoulders, the tops of his arms. He stood, his hands buried in her nut-brown hair, breathing in her scent. She smelled like bergamot. She started to circle behind him, and an instinct in him snapped into life. "Don't." He pulled her back to face him.   
"What is it?" She placed a soothing hand on his forearm, and ran a line of kisses along the length of his arm, following the ridge of the muscles below the tanned skin. Keeping her eyes on his, she slowly moved behind him, and drew her breath in. His back was badly scarred; a cross hatching of little, healed wounds. Some were red or purple; others were little etched white lines.  
"Does it hurt?" From behind him she let her fingers rest in his, but made no move towards him.  
"Mostly not now," he replied.  
"What happened?"  
Pine said nothing. Silence bore down upon them, and she glanced at the face that was turned away from her.  
"You can't talk about it?" she ventured.  
"I was tortured," he replied briefly.  
"Who by?" Her voice rose in surprise.  
"An old...opponent."  
"...Another amusing, evil character?"  
"There's nothing amusing about him," Pine replied shortly.   
She returned to face him. "I can't tell who or what you are," she mused in that maddening European lilt. "Tell me something about yourself."  
"What do you want to know?" His finger plotted a trail along her collarbone, and rested for a moment under the strap of her dress.  
"Why not start with your name?" she suggested with a smile.  
"Jonathan," he responded. "Pine. And..."  
"Delphine," she said. "And what are you doing here with your scars? Or are you just here to pick up women?"

He hesitated. Here it was, the first real move of the game. Was she her own, or did she belong to someone? Was she a mistress, a weapon, or both or neither? Would she pass on what he told her, or tuck it away into her own box of secrets?  
"Tell me more about those evil men," he said, his finger continuing its course along her skin. He leaned down and tucked a kiss between her breasts. She shrugged.   
"I don't know."  
"Friends of yours?"  
"No-one here has friends," she chuckled. Seeing his look sharpen, she put two placating hands on his chest. "It amuses me to watch them flit about their business. They think they're terribly important, making their deals, talking about things no-one cares about, sitting around in their expensive suits drinking whiskey." She twinkled at him, and put her lips to his chest.   
He took a leap.  
"I'm looking for someone."  
"I'm not enough?" she replied, laughing.  
"The man who did that." He glanced backward. "I'm looking...for his son."   
Understanding flashed through the quiet eyes and she nodded, drawing back from him. "Revenge." She pronounced it "revaunsh".  
"No," he replied swiftly. "He's a child, a little boy. He was kidnapped. I'm here to bring him back."  
She appraised him, confusion all over her face. "...Leverage?" He shook his head. "But...your enemy... why? Why help him?"  
"Not for him. For the boy. He's not like his father. He trusts me. I said I'd help."  
Pine sat on the bed, looking at her, pulling off his socks. "I don't suppose you've heard any of your evil men downstairs twittering about a kid? The name Roper?"  
Delphine shook her head slowly, thinking. "I don't think so. They talk about sales, commodities, shipments. Not children."  
"Would you keep your ears open for me?" He looked up at her, and she moved toward him, resting her hands on his shoulders.   
"Of course. You're fond of him..."  
"He's just a child. I want to help him if I can."  
He paused. "Not a word of this to anyone, please. It's not my life you'd endanger. He's only nine years old."  
She nodded, then climbed onto his lap, planting her knees either side of him. She tipped her head slightly, and kissed him. His arms locked around her and he rolled her fully onto the bed.


	6. Delphine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Delphine leads Pine into new territory.

It was a long time since it had been like this. She sank into his touch. He seemed to know how to make her curl in on herself and then open like a flower. One of his fingers trailed across her sex, barely touching her, skimming her hair and setting her nerves on fire, and she collapsed inside. Pine's sandy head dipped lower as he pressed his mouth to her ribs, her belly, her abdomen. He disappeared round her side and she felt his teeth nip at the flesh of her hips. Then he was between her legs, his tongue flickering over her and into her, the soft scratch of his jaw brushing against the delicate skin at the top of her thighs. She combed her fingers into his ruffled hair and pushed his head closer to her, closer still. Somehow he knew how to keep her skin alive, pointing his tongue expertly and drawing indecipherable little shapes as he explored her. 

His breath tickled her, and as his fingers strayed dangerously backwards underneath her, she gave in, clawed at his shoulders and pulled him back up the bed toward her. Her hand went to his buttocks, urging him into her, as his forehead pressed into hers. She muttered something tangled in his ear, something he couldn't make out. He raised himself up and looked down at her. Delphine stretched her arms up above her head, looking at him intently. "Tie me," she whispered.

He stopped for a moment, disquieted. She went on looking at him.   
"Are you sure?" His voice was low.  
She nodded, reaching her neck up to kiss his throat. Pine looked around the room briefly, then turned around. He got off the bed and walked to the end. Leaning over her, he slowly peeled off the black hold-up stockings that were now the only thing she wore. Crawling up toward the top of the bed, he crouched over her and slowly, deliberately, fastened one of the stockings around both of her wrists, tying it to the rails of the bedstead behind her. Her breathing was shallow. He held her chin between a finger and thumb, and kissed her mouth firmly. He picked up the other stocking, and stretched it out in front of her eyes, an inch from her face, letting the question hang in the air. She nodded. She felt his fingers, quick and accurate, knot the material behind her head. Then he was upon her again in the sudden darkness. His skin felt hotter than before, his fingers harder. His breath was louder in her ear as his mouth groped at her skin. 

She felt abandoned to him, and let her senses jumble together until all she could discern was a wave of sensation, a flood of aching nerves. Then, suddenly, clearly, his hands were firm on her hips and he turned her over in one movement onto her front. Excitement and fear washed over her. She had got herself into this, and now he held every card. 

Pine felt Delphine tense as he leaned over her. The mop of brown hair, ridged by the black tie and knot at the back, hid her face altogether. She spasmed slightly as his mouth touched the nape of her neck, and he trailed his hands down her sides, his mouth along her spine, darting either side to surprise her skin with kisses where she least expected them to land. His cock pushed at the soft opening to her sex, and he groaned as he slipped in and she tensed around him. His hands clutched the sides of her buttocks as he rocked harder against her and pushed deeper and deeper into her. She whimpered and stretched against her restraints, little fluttering snatches of muffled French escaping her as he took her. He came first, but mercifully, miraculously, managed to stay tensed inside her as she arched and cried out beneath him. 


	7. Afterwards

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pine is puzzled by his new lover.

The water ran hot over their skin as he washed the soap over her. The shower cubicle was spacious and allowed Pine space to kneel at her feet, drawing handfuls of soap down her legs. He got to his feet and pulled her close to him, and they stood for a moment, eyes closed, glued together beneath the scalding water. She felt him kiss the top of her head. Over the rush of the water, his voice grazed her ear.  
"Is it usually like that... when you're with someone new?"  
She looked up, ducking away from the stream of water to keep the spray from her eyes.  
"You mean, with the..."  
He nodded.   
"....Often, yes," she replied. He said nothing, but stroked his hand over her wet hair.  
"Why? Does it bother you?"  
"A little," he answered.  
"Because you're not the only one?" She felt herself grow cold. She despised jealousy.  
"Because... you're taking a big risk. You're in their power...and what if you get into trouble? What if you get involved with someone who wants to hurt you?"  
She nestled back into him. "I'm perfectly alright," she said. That infuriating, insouciant French lilt. "You have to live. I can't go through life bored and afraid."

She watched him dress, not bothering to change from her dressing gown. She enjoyed looking at him. He was a straight line from top to toe, lean in the middle, with slim but powerful shoulders, long, well-made legs and and slightly bony feet. His hair, cut close to the nape of his neck and rougher on top of his head, made him look rangier than his six feet two inches. He turned to her as he buttoned and tucked in his pale blue shirt, his face creasing in a grin. His eyes, which had looked haunted a few hours earlier, crinkled and sparkled now. He laced his shoes, and sat beside her on the bed, cupping her face with his hand as he dropped a kiss onto her forehead.  
"What we spoke about before..." he began. Delphine drew a zipper motion across her mouth and nodded, unsmiling.  
"Can I see you again?" he asked.  
She smiled. "You know where to find me."

Pine lay back on the bed in his own hotel, exhausted, bewildered. What was that? Had he taken what he wanted from her, or had she reeled him into something? She was a riddle. The attraction was mutual and real, he knew that much. 

He looked toward the French windows, and noticed one of the gauze drapes caught between the glass of the doors. He stiffened. He had not left it like that when he'd gone out earlier that evening. His ears pricked up and he stilled his breath.

Rising slowly, Pine rolled quietly off the bed. He could not ready his gun without the click of the safety giving him away. He reached for a letter opener and held it poised firmly in front of him as he trod slowly through the room. YANK - he hauled the main drapes back. Nothing. He peered into the bathroom. No-one. Gingerly he opened the wardrobe... darkness. He looked around, troubled. Satisfied that no assassin lay in wait for him, he rifled through his belongings. Nothing seemed wrong or out of place. Had they simply looked around? Had he imagined it? His gaze rested on the map he had unfurled earlier on the desk, and he sat down and returned to work.


	8. Amri

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jonathan discovers Delphine has some sinister friends, and sets a plan in motion.

He took a cab to La Cigale again the following evening. The same little clusters of men dotted the foyer, with nothing to distinguish one group from another. They laughed convivially with each other. There was nothing suspicious in their behaviour. There was certainly no sign of Marwan Amri. Pine began to despair of finding a way in. He didn't want to go scaling walls halfway up a hillside in the middle of the night if there was a smarter way into the compound.

He stepped through into the bar, and froze. Delphine was seated at the bar again - but this time two men were with her. They were on the young side of middle aged. Both Tunisian, Pine guessed. They wore smart trousers, shirts and ties, though no jackets. One was beginning to bald, slim but with a sloppy looking belly, and stood behind Delphine. The other was in better shape, with thick dark hair and a Roman nose, and gripped Delphine's arm. Did Pine recognise his profile? He thought perhaps he did. The man who might have been Amri leaned into her ear, and she recoiled from him. He jabbed a finger in her face.

She wrenched her arm from him and stood up. They were only slightly taller than her and she faced them down. They backed away sullenly, and strode out through the glass doors in the direction of the beachside pool. Delphine stared after them for a few seconds, then sat down. Still in the doorway, Pine took a step closer and saw her hand shake as she summoned the bartender.

He saw his moment, and crossed the room quickly to her. She started suddenly as he appeared behind her, and laughed, too lightly.  
"Jonathan! I didn't expect to see you again so soon." Her tone was forced. "Sit down with me. Let me buy you a whiskey."  
"Delphine." He placed his hand over hers, which still shook. "Come with me." He looked over her shoulder through the glass. The two men were no longer in sight.  
She stood, and let him lead her out of the bar. They crossed the lobby, and she followed him down a corridor that opened into a smaller, empty bar peppered with lounge chairs covered with gaily coloured striped Berber fabric.

\---

He drew her to a seat, and they sat opposite each other, knees touching. She wore a loose, mint green sundress that fluttered under the air conditioning.  
"What was that?" he asked.  
She looked at him, and down at her bare knees.  
"Were they the sort of men you were talking about yesterday?"  
She didn't answer.  
"Delphine... do you know them?"  
He paused.  
"Was one of them Marwan Amri?" She stiffened, and knew straight away that she had betrayed herself. She looked up at him. He was looking at her intently.  
"Yes," she admitted quietly.  
"What did he want?"  
"Nothing."  
Pine gripped her hand.  
"He's a bully, that's all. He likes to push people around. He thinks it makes him a big man." Her voice was bitter.  
"What did he want from you?"  
"The same thing he always wants. It's nothing I can't handle." She sounded defensive now.  
"How do you know him?"  
"Everybody here knows everyone. That's how it is round here."  
"How much do you know about him?"  
"Do you always interrogate people like this?" she retorted. "You're very chivalrous, Mr Pine." She pulled her hand from his.  
He softened. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to push you. But he's dangerous. I know what he's mixed up in."  
She laughed softly. "Who doesn't?"  
Pine's voice dropped to an urgent whisper. "Delphine... I think he has Danny. The boy I'm looking for." That got her attention. A shadow crossed her eyes - a flicker of upset, or fear - he couldn't tell - and she pressed her lips together.  
"Have you ever been up to his compound? In the hills?" Pine asked carefully.  
"Yes." She sounded small now, and a little ashamed. "There are parties up there sometimes. Everyone goes."  
"When was the last one?"  
"A couple of months ago."  
"Anything soon?"  
She sat in silence for a moment. Pine fought the urge to grip her hand again. "In two days' time."  
"I need to get in there, Delphine."  
"You're mad."  
"Nevertheless." He took her hand again, gentler now. "Listen... are you _**sure**_  you haven't heard anything about a little boy?"  
"Nothing." She shook her head, and looked at him, her eyes clear. "I'd tell you."  
He nodded, and leaned towards her. She slumped into his arms.  
Into her ear, he said, "If you can get me in there, I will make sure nothing happens to you." She shuddered.  
"I promise. I will - not - let anyone hurt you."


	9. Accomplices

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pine must persuade Delphine to risk everything for him.

They didn't go back to the bar. They spent the rest of the evening, and the next day, in Delphine's room. Curled around each other, they talked, and slept, and made love. Delphine ordered food up to the room twice. Once, during the night, she noticed that Pine had bad dreams. He wouldn't talk to her about it, but woke up shaking and sweating. She smoothed the perspiration off his forehead, kissed his shoulder and as they drifted back to sleep, she silently mused whether the bad dreams were about the marks on his back or something else.

The next evening, he left her and stole back to the Itropika to collect his maps. He checked his gun, opening and closing the chamber, and also slipped a small knife into a band around his ankle. He took a last look around the room, and returned to La Cigale. Delphine was on the balcony when he arrived, looking out to the blue Mediterranean, and he dropped a silent kiss on her shoulder. She turned, and kissed him, looping her arms under his and around his back as he scrunched a handful of her hair in his fingers.

He led her back into the room, and took the maps out of his bag. The temperature in the room dropped ten degrees as she surveyed them bleakly.  
"I can't, Jonathan."  
"I'm going to protect you. I promise. _**Nothing**_  will happen to you. I'll be right there the whole time. Please, Delphine." His voice was desperate.  
She knotted her fingers together, and her shoulders sank in resignation.  
"How are you going to do it?"  
"You just have to get me in there. We'll arrive together. You'll find some people you know, and I'll find Danny. I have some idea where he might be -" Pine unfolded the satellite map of the compound - "...I think they'll be keeping him in one of these three areas." He gestured to the two back corners of the compound and a central building, around which was a large courtyard and the outer ring of the compound buildings.  
"As soon as I find him I'll get him out of there. I'll take another guest's car, I don't want to put you in any danger." She exhaled bitterly.  
"So you **_won't_** be right there the whole time. You'll leave me there."  
"I... do you want to come with us? I thought it'd be better not to incriminate you. If you'd want to leave with us, we'll do that."  
She put her head in her hands.  
"Jonathan Pine." She pushed her hands back through her hair. "I wish I had never met you."  
"Delphine." He put his arms around her, and kissed her forehead. She struggled briefly, then let herself go limp. He thought, 'There are plenty of people I wish had never met me." He held her tightly, then drew her to her feet and led her over to the bed. She wiped her eyes, and undid the buttons of his shirt, pressing kisses onto his skin, as he sank down onto the sheets with her.

\---

They rose early the next day. The party was an afternoon affair, and Delphine took the morning to bathe, dress and make herself up, while Pine went back to the Itropika to change into the best suit he had brought with him. He examined his reflection as he fastened a pair of silver cufflinks and straightened his grey suit jacket. He looked handsome... anonymous. The night manager eternal in Savile Row tailoring. He ran a tidying hand through his dark blond hair, and left the Itropika behind him.

He met Delphine outside La Cigale. She pulled up in a white 1960s MG, and leaned over to open the passenger door for him. Her skin glowed, lit by a white halterneck dress with a full knee-length skirt. A batik-patterned silk scarf partly covered her hair. She put her hand on the gearstick to speed off, but he laid a hand over hers to stop her.  
"Thank you." He held her face in both hands, and kissed her. She gave him an inscrutable look, then changed gears and the little car roared off along the coastline.

Amri's compound was a rural looking structure that sprawled across the green hillside; large but all on one level, with roughly built walls made of stones and boulders, and a hand built wooden roof. Men with automatic rifles guarded the driveway that led to the compound, as well as the entrance gate itself. They knew Delphine, though, and waved her through. From inside, North African music drifted out, an intoxicating and lovely coil of rhythms and haunting sounds. An accompanying waft of cooking aromas enveloped them and Pine's stomach rumbled. Ruefully he pictured the meal that the other guests would enjoy while he ran the gauntlet of Amri's guards.

They were ushered in, and entered a shaded courtyard, with long tables set for the incoming feast. Children of all ages ran about, some chasing harried looking chickens, others playfighting with each other while their mothers snapped at them in Arabic to behave. It was a warmer scene than Pine had expected. As he surveyed the courtyard he half expected to see Danny scrambling around with the other children, then shook himself. Focus, Pine. A kind-eyed woman in a headscarf approached with glasses, and offered them cool, fresh rose lemonade from a jug. Pine looked around, noting the various doorways. He wanted Amri to walk in so that at least he knew where he was. Ideally, the host would welcome his mingling guests before they sat down to eat, and Pine could slip out unnoticed. He glanced at Delphine, who was busy making smiling conversation in all directions in French. She was playing her part well.

The time passed, and with it, Pine's confidence. He was increasingly uneasy. Where was Amri? Why wasn't he here to host his own party? Delphine was deep in conversation with two local women. He interrupted them with a smile, and led her by the hand to one of the archways that surrounded the courtyard.  
"Where is he?" he asked in an urgent whisper.  
She cast around her quickly, then replied under her breath, "Not here. Follow me." Catching his hand again she pulled him into the neighbouring cloister.


	10. Cornered

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The tables are turned on Jonathan.

Away from the revelry, Delphine smiled at him, and laid a hand on his grey suit jacket, appreciating him. "I could eat you alive," she grinned hungrily.  
"Delphine -" Pine shook her off roughly "- I'm not playing around. Where is he?"  
"I don't know. It's just like him to be late. The arrogance of the rich," she said sourly.  
He looked past her. "Something's off. This feels all wrong." He looked hard at her. She returned his gaze frankly but when his stare didn't relent, her chin dropped and she tried to sidestep him. His skin prickled and alarms screamed in his head. It was a trap - she was working for Amri. Or Amri had played them both. He put an arm in her path, blocking her from leaving. Anger flared in her face and she tried to get past him on his other side. He pinned her to the wall.   
"Talk. Now."  
She struggled against him. "You're -" He held her chin firmly and put his face close to hers.  
"No more games. I think you know where Amri is, and I think there's every chance you know where Danny is too."  
She looked at him unhappily and her shoulders shook.  
"He'll kill me," she whispered.  
"No. He won't." Pine's hand left her chin, and looped around her. He pulled her close to him.  
"I will get you out of this. But you have to trust me, and tell me everything you know. I can't help you otherwise."  
He waited, and she buried his face against his chest. He gave her a minute to collect herself; the sting of the needle in the back of his neck caught him by surprise.

He recoiled and staggered back against the wall, clamping a hand to his neck. His vision blurred and the room tilted around him. Somewhere in his shifting field of vision, two... three? Delphines looked at him gravely through their fringes. Something dangled in multiple from her left arms. His throat started to close up.   
"I'm sorry, Jonathan. You gave me no choice." Her voice came to him as if he was underwater, and his eyes closed woozily as a column of fuzz and movement took over his senses. The room turned on its side and he tumbled into black.

\---

Pine woke slowly, his head clouded and foggy. He was loosely aware that he was sitting down, and could not move his arms. As he came to, he realised his hands were bound behind the chair he sat on. His memory was out of focus and he couldn't remember how he had got there. Somewhere beyond the walls, the music of the party continued. Pine strained at his ropes, and in the corner of his eye, a door opened.

Delphine walked in holding Danny's hand. Pine stared at them aghast.  
"Danny -"  
She interrupted. "Danny, do you remember Mr Pine?" The delicate accent, the kind voice... despair rushed at Pine in a sudden, sickening wave.  
The boy nodded unhappily.  
"You know what he did, don't you?" Danny stared at Pine, and looked as though he would cry.  
"He sent your dad to prison, didn't he, Danny?" The boy nodded again, and his face reddened and hardened. Delphine continued. "He lied to you. All of you. Your dad's old business partners told us everything he did. He was a spy, the whole time. He made you tell him your dad's secrets. He used you to destroy your dad's life."

A roll of nausea washed over Pine. "Danny..." he tried weakly, shaking his head slowly. Whatever she had injected him with turned his speech to cotton wool, and he had to force the word out slowly.  
"Would you prefer to stay with me, or go away with your friend, the spy?" She spoke in a low, honeyed, motherly voice. He clutched her hand. "Do you want to go with him?" Danny shook his head uncertainly.   
"Danny, I'm here to help... your dad sent me," he reasoned desperately. Danny stared at him as one might keep a scorpion in sight, and moved to hide behind Delphine. For the first time Pine could remember, the boy seemed so much younger than his nine years.

"Danny," said Delphine slyly. "If you want, you could punish him for what he did. Do you want that? You could send him away forever." The boy was very still.   
Delphine crouched down beside him, and pulled a small handgun from the back of her waistband. Showing it to him, she asked quietly, "...do you want to make him go away forever? It's very easy. Let me show you how." She took Danny's hands and folded them around the weapon. His hands dropped, holding the heavy little gun, and she steadied it, pointing it at Pine's chest.  
"Just point it there... straight at him. It's easy, Danny. Very quick. Your dad will be proud of you." Pine felt sick - for the boy more than for himself.   
"You're insane," he accused Delphine. "Danny... you don't want to kill me. I know you don't want to kill anyone. You're a really good kid. Don't let her make you do something bad that you can't undo."

Danny took one hand off the weapon, and it dangled in his other hand.   
"Danny?" Delphine could not disguise the irritation in her voice. Danny shook his head hard.  
Pine tried again, with more urgency, forcing the words to knit together coherently. "Your dad sent me, Danny. Roper sent me. He knows these people took you. He doesn't like me any more, it's true, but he knows I'd do anything to keep you safe. He can't get here but he knew I could. So he sent me to bring you home safely."  
"Don't let him lie to you again, Danny," Delphine murmured in his ear. She put an arm around his shoulder and steered him from the room. Danny looked uncertainly back at Pine but allowed himself to be led out. Pine wanted to howl in frustration, and pulling as hard as he could with his wrists, thrashed at the ropes that pinned him to the chair.


	11. The Fool on the Hill

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pine learns the truth about Delphine, to his cost.

Ten minutes or so passed, and Delphine returned.  
"So. Who are you working for, Jonathan?" That dangerous, honeysuckle voice again. "Why is the boy so important to you?"  
Pine found he could not answer, because he did not know. Was he here to help Angela Burr beat Roper once and for all, or to rescue a little boy he felt inordinately responsible for?

She scrunched her hand softly into his hair and without warning wrenched his head back. "Why does he matter?"  
"I owe it to him. I let him down before," Pine managed. She gave a sardonic little snort.  
"So you're working for the British government."  
He managed, without difficulty, to affect a look of shame. "No. I'm discharged. His father got a message to me privately. MI6 can't get involved."  
"Why not?" The words danced, pretty and weightless, no trace of the malice behind them.  
"Because the British government doesn't spend its money and resources on rescuing the children of criminals," he snapped, eyes blazing.  
"Hm." She raised her brows, seemingly satisfied.  
"Where is he?" Pine demanded. His mouth was dry.  
"Safely tucked away," she smiled.   
"What are you going to do with him?" Pine tried again, without visibly wriggling, to wrest his hands from their bonds behind the chair, but he was too tightly bound.  
"We'll hang onto him as long as he's useful. After that..." She shrugged. She watched the desperation in his eyes. She reached for another chair and sat down a safe distance from the struggling figure opposite her.

"Who are you?" he asked.  
"You know who I am. You just miscalculated what I am," she said coolly.  
"Was any of it real?"  
"Did I break your heart?" she taunted. "No... I doubt it. You know, I enjoyed it for what it was. If I had known you outside all this..." She looked around her. "It could have been a lot of fun. But you were here for all the wrong reasons, so... shame." She shrugged again and watched the realisation dawning on his face.  
"Mistress, whore, damsel in distress. That's about the size of it for you, isn't it? You can't believe that it could be me in charge."  
"Amri -"   
She cut him off. "...is mine. He fronts our organisation. He's very effective. He's developing our interests in Morocco as we speak."  
"But in the bar the other night..."  
She laughed bitterly. "Yes. You were so dear and comforting when you weren't interrogating me." Her voice took on an edge. "Guess what he said to me when he grabbed my arm. Guess."  
Pine was at a loss.  
"No idea? Alright." She leaned closer. "He said, 'Like this?'" She sat back, letting it sink in.

"...You staged that whole scene..." The blood drained from Pine's face. "So... the weapons are for you?"  
"Jonathan, I'm not going to go on a murderous rampage, if that's what you mean," she mocked. "We have an agreement with the security forces here."  
"The ones killing civilians... abducting ordinary people?" he retorted.  
She rounded on him. "They're maintaining law and order! These people think they want another revolution. When was the last time you saw revolution end happily?"  
"So instead you'll provide arms to a police force that tortures its own citizens?"  
She shrugged. "It's a living. What do you think I'm doing here? Did you think I was a kept woman?" She sighed, and turned to him. "Jonathan... did you ever try to persuade Richard Roper how immoral his life choices were?"  
He didn't answer, and she came up close to him. "So what makes you think you could change my mind? You think you can appeal to my better nature?" She leaned into his face. "This IS my better nature." 

Without warning, Pine jerked one leg out swiftly towards Delphine, and caught her sharply behind the knee. She crashed to the ground, and rolled over to face him. Scrambling up, her eyes blazing, she pulled the gun from her waistband. As she approached him again she held it out, pointing the barrel at his face.   
"Bad form, my love." Suddenly she raised the gun and smashed it into the side of his head. Pain exploded through his whole face, and Jonathan felt his blood stream hotly from his nose.


	12. The Hills of Tabarka

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pine faces the end.

"Mehdi!"  
She hollered, and a young man in fatigues appeared, holding a rifle.  
In French, she told him, "Get him out of here. Deal with him - away from everyone. No noise."  
The hollow eye of Delphine's gun stared him down grimly as the guard untied him. Pine's wrists throbbed as the circulation returned to them. He was hauled to his feet, and led away. Sunlight winked at them as he was pushed, stumbling, through the cloisters of the compound - Pine reflected with irritation that, now the sedative had worn off, he could have walked perfectly normally if the guard didn't keep jabbing his rifle into his back. They reached a bolted door in the far corner of the compound.  
"Ouvre la porte," ordered the guard. Pine gave him a hostile look and unbolted the door.

The sunlight blinded him as they stepped outside and began the steep climb into the hillside forest. Rocks and small branches crunched under their feet as the canopy darkened above their heads. He wondered how far the guard would take him before pulling the trigger. He guessed that even with the cover the trees provided, they needed to get at least two miles away to prevent the guests below hearing the shot that would kill him. That gave him perhaps thirty or forty minutes at most, including the distance they'd already covered. Sweat prickled the back of his neck. He raised his arm to look at his watch, and was rewarded with a sharp crack to the back of his head with the barrel of the gun.

Suddenly there was a scuffling noise behind him. Mehdi stumbled and landed on one knee - he had lost his footing. Too slow - before Pine could seize his chance, the guard was up again, jabbing the rifle at him in anger and embarrassment.  
"Tes mains!" Mehdi snapped, and Pine raised his hands and started walking.

\---

It felt like they had walked for hours. His arms, clasped behind his head at Mehdi's insistence, ached intolerably. The tension was worse than the burning in the soles of his feet, or the stifling heat, which scorched the back of Pine's neck. He thought about exactly how it had come to this; dying alone on a north African hillside, with a bullet in the back of his head, having failed everyone.

He had always prided himself on his shrewd judgement, and yet his track record over recent years couldn't be applied to the women he'd known or loved. Sophie - dead because of him. Because of Richard Roper - but also, indisputably, because of him. Jed... the act of getting involved with her in the first place, like Sophie, had crossed every line. It almost ruined everything and cost them their lives. And even at the point when he had expected it to work out, his judgement had been spectacularly off. He pushed her back to the recesses of his mind.

And Delphine - his own damned, stupid, fucking fault. He hadn't focused, because he had resented being dragged back in; and because despite that, his ego had swelled at being back in the game - Jonathan Pine, British spy on a secret mission. He had embraced every cliché. And she had played him like a harp. Game point to her; finely played, he had to admit in his misery. He railed at himself savagely. And now he faced this wretched end. He could not tell himself that he didn't deserve it. But Danny... he would die for his stupidity, and Danny would be lost. He hated himself.

"Arrêtez!" Mehdi called him to a halt. So this was to be the place. Pine looked around at the clearing. It was remote. No-one would hear. The child whose life he had ruined flashed through his head, and he searched for something, anything, any way to stay alive.


	13. Do Or Die

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pine reaches for his one chance to save Danny's life and his own.

The young guard came up behind him and, with a rough hand on his shoulder, pushed Pine to his knees. He saw his chance. He resisted briefly, then let Mehdi force him to the ground. As he struggled, his hands jerked away from the back of his head, and as his knees hit the earth, he whipped one hand to his left ankle and snatched the knife he had strapped to it the day before. His other hand caught the young man around the middle and in a deft movement, he tumbled Mehdi to the ground. He was a head taller than the guard, and more powerfully built; the young man stood no chance. Fear flashed through his eyes, but the knife flashed brighter, glinting in a shaft of sunlight as Pine drew it quickly across the guard's neck.

A heartbeat later, he was sprinting down the hillside through the trees. Mehdi lay hidden behind a tree far behind him, wrapped in his killer's pale grey Armani jacket. Pine's feet scrabbled on the dusty earth as he tore through the forest, skidding to avoid the trees that reared up before him. Music drifted toward him and he saw the compound looming ahead. He slowed immediately, crouching behind a large tree to plot his next, his last move. This was it; one chance to get it right.

He crept around the building, his senses pricked to full alert, til he found it - a side gate into the building. Unguarded - perhaps this had been Mehdi's post. The music was louder now, a dizzying, intoxicating din. The drums hammered and reverberated off the rustic stone walls. He inched carefully through, glancing carefully around him and pressing his back to the wall. He heard children's laughter and followed the sound.

There he was.

Through an archway he saw Danny, sitting forlornly beneath it while the local children chased each other in circles in the courtyard. The child's shoulders slumped - he seemed to have given in altogether. Pine stole up to him, and clamped a firm hand over the boy's mouth, scooping him up and yanking him into the darkness. He carried the kicking child to the end of the corridor and set him down, keeping a hand over his mouth.  
"Danny. I'm not going to hurt you. Do you understand?" he whispered. "Whatever happens, you're safe. I promise." Poor kid, he thought. Abducted three times in little more than a year - what a poisoned chalice, to be Richard Roper's son. Danny nodded dumbly at him. Pine kept his hand over his mouth, but relaxed his hold.

He reached into his trouser pocket and pulled out his phone. One-handed, he dialed the volume down to almost nothing and opened a video, which he held up for Danny to see. He pressed play, and watched Danny's eyes.  
_"Dans - it's me. Now I know you're scared, but I want you to listen, and to trust me. I've sent Jonathan to come and bring you home. I want you to trust him and let him get you out of there. I'll see you soon, Danny. When you get back they'll let you visit me."_ A gruff silence, and Roper cleared his throat. _"I love you, Danny. I know you haven't been able to rely on your old man much, but you can rely on me now. I'll see you soon._ "

Danny's eyes lifted to Jonathan's face, and fat tears rolled down his cheek. Pine leaned toward him to hug him, when something constricted around his throat, hauling him backwards, as Danny's shrill scream pierced the air.


	14. Checkmate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pine fights for his life.

"You really don't give up." Delphine stood over him, her eyes as hard as her voice. Behind him a heavy body and a hard pair of hands tightened a leather strap around his throat.

Pine felt the life slipping from him as the guard choked the air from his lungs. He fought desperately, kicking out frantically and trying to prise the belt from around his neck. His feet lost their grip on the earth beneath him and his vision started to darken. He could no longer lock his fingers onto anything... could not see... could not breathe... could not tell which way was up or down. He felt himself falling, darkening, until he was shocked back into life by a hoarse scream.  
"JONATHAN!!! NO!!!!" A small figure...blearily he tried to focus his vision... Danny...

The figure floated before his vision and screamed his name. Pine jammed his elbow savagely back into the body behind him, and the band around his throat loosened. As consciousness returned, and pain with it, he discerned someone pulling the boy away, kicking and yelling. He tensed, and summoning every shred of strength he could still gather, sprinted headlong at the pair, ramming into the guard and sending him headlong. He dived at the prone figure and reached for his gun before the guard could gather himself. They tumbled over each other, twisting each other's wrists to seize control of the weapon. Pine managed to get his other arm across his opponent's windpipe, and the man's grip fell away. One brutal thump with the butt of the gun, and the guard was out like a light. A metre away, Danny was getting to his feet.

Delphine turned and faced Pine. He aimed the gun at her, and at his side, Danny tugged on his arm. "Don't!" he pleaded. Pine glanced down at him. He held the weapon steady.  
" It's up to you. Make a choice." he said guardedly. "If you want to live, we walk away now, and you don't follow us. You let us go." He kept the gun trained on her.  
She shook her head slowly, contemptuously, curling her lip at him. He started to back away slowly, Danny still clinging to him.  
"Well played, Jonathan," she murmured. She stood perfectly still. A smile flickered across her lips - he thought he saw amusement and defeat dancing there together. "Go, then. But -" she hardened her voice again "- tell Mr Roper we aren't finished. We had an agreement. Next time I see him, I will remind him of that."  
Pine nodded. Their eyes met in something like understanding. A score draw. Taking Danny's hand in his, he turned and started walking. They might have reached the doorway, but for the click.


	15. Mea Culpa

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jonathan and Delphine face each other one last time; only one will survive.

Pine spun on his heel, and saw her hand outstretched. Steel glinted in her eyes, and the barrel of her pistol drew a direct line to Danny.  
"Down!" he shouted, shoving the child hard toward the floor behind him. He saw it happen a hundred times in slow motion, like the spiralling light trail of a child's sparkler in November. The gun flashed, he swerved. His arm shot out in front of him and muscle memory discharged a shot. White-hot pain flooded his abdomen, spilling across his skin like a lava flow, wrenching an anguished cry through his teeth. Triumph flashed in the eyes of the woman in front of him, his lover and his enemy. Then she crumpled to the floor like a bird shot out of the sky.

He pressed a bloody hand to his side and staggered to reach the woman on the floor. Delphine's white dress was painted red by the life leaving her. Something Pine would never understand, even when he thought about it afterward, made him push a lock of thick dark hair from her eyes, and cup a hand protectively beneath her head to hold her off the ground. Her fingers fluttered at his arm, and she blinked at him slowly and exhaled softly before the light left her eyes. He laid her carefully back down on the hard earth, and remained there on his knees, his hand on her face. 'Mea culpa,' he thought. He knew, this time, it wasn't true, but the thought lingered.

"Jonathan?" The small voice at his side called him back to reality. Rising painfully, he put a hand on the boy's shoulder, and clutching his side with the other, nudged him to the doorway.

The shots had brought trouble. Fifty yards of dusky, falling sunlight lay between them and the MG.  
"When I say 'go,' Danny, you duck down and run like hell. Okay?" Pine's voice strained. Danny nodded quickly. Pine positioned himself between the boy and the direction the gunmen were running from, and prepared to run the gauntlet.  
"GO, Danny," he shouted. They pelted across the long driveway. Bullets tore past them on all sides, ripping splintered chunks out of the trees on the other side of them. Pine's side burned savagely, but he held on tightly to the boy and kept his head low as they raced for the car. He scooped Danny up and bundled him over the door of the MG.  
"Crouch as small as you can," he told him, breathless. Danny curled up on the floor in the foot cavity in front of the passenger seat as Pine bounded into the driving seat. The car keys... "God, no, please," - his stomach plummeted - no, they were there, in the ignition. 'Delphine, thank you - thank you,' he prayed, gripping the steering wheel. The engine growled to life and the little white car burned along the driveway and cleared the gates. Danny clambered up into the passenger seat, his gaze locked on Pine in wide-eyed silence. Pine kept his foot to the floor, and as they left the compound behind them, the blue and gold coastline rose up to meet them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two final chapters left to come!


	16. Tourists

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Final chapter! 
> 
> Pine leaves Tunisia behind, but faces a reality closer to home.
> 
> I really hope you've enjoyed i as much as I liked writing it. I'd love to know what you think.

The border control queue was long today, even by the usual standards. The air conditioning had been broken for two days, and sweat ran down the necks of the passengers as the queue inched slowly, slowly forward. The border police scowled at the travellers as they stepped forward. Encased in their glass boxes at the head of the queue, stiffly dressed in their uniforms, they were even more overheated than the hapless passengers. Halfway to the back of the queue, a large man, unluckily dressed in a black wool business suit, dabbed at the bald dome of his head with a damp handkerchief. Behind him, a little boy - perhaps nine or ten years old, fidgeted. He was not a local, his tousled brown hair and sun-pinked nose marking him out as a European. He craned his neck to look up at the face of the man beside him - a tall, healthy-looking dark blond man with lightly tanned skin and dark Wayfarer sunglasses. The man looked down at the boy, took his shades off and grinned at the child.

"Ready? Here's your passport," he said to the boy, handing him the dark red British passport. "Remember your name?"  
"Alistair Thomas Bevin," nodded the boy. He opened the passport and flicked through the intricately marked pages, settling with interest on the page that held his photo. The man ruffled his hair affectionately, and the queue advanced.

"Suivant!" The border staff called out the words by rote in bored voices. The two westerners stepped forward to meet the glass, the boy peering over the top of the counter at the sign fixed to the glass, printed in French and Arabic.  
"Nom, s'il vous plaît?"  
"Michael Bevin," the man answered. He and the boy handed over their passports. The guard examined them, scrutinised the pair in front of him, and asked the boy, "Ton père? Your father?"  
"Oui," beamed the boy, pleased with himself.  
The guards slid the passports under the glass to them and waved them through. Michael Bevin nodded at the guard, and stepped through the barrier. Something made him wince and put his hand to his side as he moved forward, but it was not noticed or remarked upon. As they disappeared around the corner towards the departure gates, the boy reached up and slipped his hand into his father's hand.

  
\---

 

Pine stood panting in the cold February air. It was a grey day and the wind whipped his bare knees. Mud streaked his face and his legs, and light rain speckled on his face and shoulders. A shout of laughter carried on the wind toward him made him turn his head to the boy running in a football jersey toward him, skidding on the wet grass. Pine smiled and crouched forward, arms out, blinking the rain out of his eyes. Danny kept his eyes on the ball, concentrating hard, and dribbled it between his feet as he ran. Pine shifted back and forth, and clapped his hands together and rubbed them for a second to keep them warm, before stretching them out again.

Danny approached his target, and swung his foot, belting the ball toward Pine. It rose in an arc, and sailed toward the space immediately to the left of where Pine stood. He reached his hand out and launched himself toward it. Perhaps his aim was off, or perhaps he wasn't concentrating, but the ball whistled through the void between his arm and his head, bouncing comfortably into the net behind him. Pine hit the ground hard and ungracefully, rolling into a puddle that drenched his shirt and splattered mud into his hair and the side of his face. The boy crowed, and jumped in the air before running around in circles cackling. Pine got sheepishly to his feet, wiping the muck off his face, and grinned with embarrassment at the delighted kid still whizzing about in front of him.  
"Alright, well done," he conceded, sloping back toward the net to retrieve the ball, and booting it out into the field again.  
"If you can make it a hat-trick, I'll buy you an ice cream," he promised. "But if you miss, it's your turn in goal, and I never miss."

On the side of the pitch, a tall, willowy woman with boyish blonde hair watched them, smiling.

 

\---

 

A neutered "bing" woke Pine, and he shifted in his seat. Disorientated, he looked around. The cabin lights made him squint, and he reached up, wincing, to turn off the light above him. A weight on his arm restricted his movement, and he glanced down at the ruffled little head, fast asleep against him. With his other arm and as little movement as possible he took a moment to lift up the hem of his shirt, checking the bandage. It was fine - no blood seeping through. He settled it back carefully over his abdomen, and nestled back into his seat, closing his eyes, as Danny slept on, huddled against him.

They landed thirty minutes later, and Pine gently nudged Danny awake. The child rubbed the sleep from his eyes, and sat up to press his nose to the window, as the runway bounced and thundered below them. Night had fallen in London, and the runway twinkled with colourful lights embedded in the tarmac.

Danny held onto Pine's hand firmly as they strolled through the corridors of Heathrow. Beyond the border gates, Angela Burr stood waiting, her hands in her pockets. Her heart hammered in her chest, but slowed instantly as the pair walked through the glass doors of the arrivals lounge. Her face creased into a smile. The smile on Pine's face, as he and the boy chattered with each other, faded when he saw her.

"You must be Danny," beamed Angela. "We're very glad to have you back. We knew Jonathan would get you home safe and sound."  
Danny looked at her, and back to Pine, with apprehension.  
"Your mum can't wait to see you," she smiled. Pine made himself smile in reply. "There's a car outside; my friend Terry here is going to take you to her. She's staying nearby."  
"Is Jonathan coming?" asked Danny in a small voice. He held onto Pine's hand tightly.

Pine's throat hurt. He crouched down to face Danny, placing his hands on the boy's shoulders.  
"I have to go with Angela, Danny. Your mum has been waiting for you; I bet you'll be glad to see her, won't you? She's missed you very much."  
Danny stared at him. The silence was appalling. Angela shifted from one foot to the other. Pine met Danny's eyes.  
"Can I have a hug?" he asked the boy.  
Danny crushed his arms around Pine's neck. He wrapped his own arms around the boy, ignoring the pain in his belly. He tucked his chin over Danny's head, and Danny pushed his face into Pine's shoulder, clinging to his neck. Pine didn't think anyone had ever clung to him like that. His eyes stung, and the stone in his throat grew. He swallowed.  
"Will you come and visit me?" The voice emerged muffled from Pine's shoulder.  
"I'll try, Danny." He dared not use more words than that, for fear of his voice starting to shake.

"Come on, love," encouraged Angela, rubbing the boy's shoulder. Pine slowly disentangled himself. Danny looked at him, his face red, and Angela took his hand.  
"See you, Danny," Pine said. His throat closed up but he made himself smile reassuringly. Danny didn't answer, but let Angela lead him toward the exit. He looked back over his shoulder at Pine. Fixing the smile to his face, Pine shook his hand in something like a wave as he watched Danny leave, and felt himself turn to ash.

  
\---

 

A car pulled up to the little street in Finsbury Park, the engine humming quietly in the cool, still night air. It stopped about halfway up the street, outside a dark row of Georgian houses. The headlights remained on, as the car rested there in silence for a few minutes. Presently one of the rear passenger doors opened, and a tall, fair haired man got out. He appeared distracted, disconnected from his surroundings. He stood in the gloom, one hand on the door for a minute or so, then closed it. Clasping his hands behind the back of his head, he stood still, his head tipped back into his hands, staring up at the houses. His shoulders dropped, and he stepped onto the pavement as the car slowly departed. The man looked up at the door to one of the houses like a condemned man might regard a noose. Taking a breath he started to climb the steps.

The keys in his hand seemed to him an alien collection of objects, and he turned them over in his hand for a moment, then let himself in. An observer might have expected to see a light switch on behind the glass in the top of the door frame, but none came. The house remained dark like its neighbours.

If the observer had loitered outside the door for half an hour or so, they might have seen a tall figure move through the dark in one of the ground floor windows. The figure would have moved aimlessly behind the glass, back and forth and around. And finally, the voyeur outside might have seen the lonely apparition sink down as if into a chair, and sit there, motionless, in the dark. They might have stayed in the chill air outside to see if the figure moved again, or turned on the light, or got up to go up to bed. If so, they would have been disappointed, for the figure sat utterly still, and seemed to lack the will or energy to do anything at all. But if curiosity had enticed them to wait perhaps an hour or more, eventually they would have been moved by the sight of the silhouette putting his head in his hands and remaining there, hunched over and alone, the outline of his shoulders occasionally shaking and heaving in the darkness.

 

 


End file.
